


Jack Is A Pig

by LadyMyfanwy



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMyfanwy/pseuds/LadyMyfanwy
Summary: Oh happy day! Ianto finally has a morning off and he plans to spend it doing absolutely nothing...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Jack Is A Pig

Jack Is A Pig

It all started innocently enough with the cap to the toothpaste tube. Jack had gotten up, gotten ready and gotten out of the house early that day. Ianto had taken a well-earned first half of the day off and he planned to spend it doing absolutely nothing. He even had a list titled ‘Nothing To Do’. 

Nothing more strenuous than making coffee. 

Nothing more cerebral than reading the latest spy novel. 

Nothing more active than enjoying both his coffee and his book in the gorgeous warmth of a summer’s day in Cardiff. Clear blue sky; soft breeze off the ocean; maybe even a few tunes from his iPod.

Waking without the aid of an alarm clock, Ianto stretched like a cat, settling his hands behind his head and reviewed the morning ahead of him. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just a few minutes before seven. True to his word, Jack was already gone, the house was silent. ‘No time to waste!’ Ianto thought as he flung the duvet away, hopped out of bed and immediately trod on the remains of a sachet of edible lube they had decimated the night before. 

With a blushing smirk, Ianto dropped the spent tube into the bin and continued into the ensuite. Without breaking stride, he snagged yesterday’s Y-fronts from the dresser top where Jack had tossed them at bedtime and put them in the laundry basket and then scooped up the towel from the floor; it was still damp from Jack’s shower. In a well-practiced move, Ianto hung the towel over the bar with one hand while occupying the other with the logistics of relieving himself. Humming softly, Ianto flushed and moved over to the sink where he quickly washed his hands.

He picked up his toothbrush and reached for the tube of toothpaste. “Uhg!” He pulled his hand back in disgust; his fingers were now sticky, having landed in the blob of green gel that had leaked from the uncovered container. Rinsing his hand, Ianto looked around for the tube’s cap. “How hard can it be to put the bloody cap back on the toothpaste!” he grumbled.

It wasn’t on the counter; ‘maybe Jack put it away in the cupboard? Nope; not there either.’ With a deep sigh, Ianto continued with his original task, and while he brushed his teeth, he deliberately set his mind to the pleasures he had waiting for him that morning: coffee, book, sunshine. It took a lot of effort on his part to ignore the fact that the sink and surrounding counter were sprinkled with Jack’s hair; Jack spent an inordinate amount of time brushing, combing and styling his hair just to make it look totally natural and untouched. As usual, the can of styling gel was all sticky on the outside, and the area was liberally doused with spattered hair product.

He rinsed his mouth with water and as he spat into the sink, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of green; he turned to look and sure enough, there was the toothpaste cap, laying in the wastepaper basket next to the sink.

“Jack!” Ianto bellowed, forgetting for the moment that Jack was already out of the house. Muttering a few choice words in Welsh, Ianto retrieved the lid, got the small bottle of Dettol from the cupboard beneath the sink and disinfected the cap thoroughly. As he screwed the top back on the tube, he realised that he’d have to clean the drying toothpaste off the porcelain; if he left it there he knew it would be the only thing he’d think about all day.

As he lifted his eyes to meet his reflection, he suddenly noticed that the mirror was speckled with a thick layer of spots. Squeezing his eyes tightly closed, Ianto pulled in a calming breath, trying hard to regain the sense of peace he’d woken up with. For some reason he himself just couldn’t fathom, Jack loved to watch himself brush his teeth. This always resulted in the bevy of splashes and spots now present on the glass.

Resigned to the inevitable, Ianto stomped naked as a Jay-bird down the hall to the main cupboard and retrieved his cleaning basket and some clean rags. Well, not rags, really; Ianto Jones did not use actual rags for anything, not even in the Hub to clean up alien nasties left after one of Owen’s more enthusiastic and therefore messy autopsies. No, these so-called cleaning rags were actually top-grade washcloths fit for the poshest of bathrooms.

They were originally part of a set of towels and bath accoutrement that he and Jack had received as a house-warming gift. But, since they both much preferred to use mesh scrubbies and the facecloths – well, the entire set actually – clashed with the colour scheme that Ianto had set for the ensuite, they had been relegated to the cleaning cupboard. The towels themselves were at the Hub for the two of them to use in the shower down in Jack’s hole-in-the-ground lair.

With his materials gathered, Ianto returned to the ensuite, pausing just long enough to slip into a pair of boxers. Grabbing the window cleaner he spritzed the glass heavily. “Why can’t he brush his teeth like regular people?!” Ianto continued to complain to the empty room. “It’s not like he doesn’t know where they are! He doesn’t have to look for them in the mirror!” Grabbing a clean cloth, he gave a vicious swipe at the mirror, mimicking the swipe he’d like to take at Jack’s arse.

Finally satisfied that the mirror was pristine, Ianto turned his attention to the sink. With a bit of toilet roll, he managed to get most of the toothpaste blob off and he dropped it into the bin. Turning to his basket he selected cleanser and a sponge and “Voila!” the sink was spotless and within minutes so was the shower.

Knowing that Jack never turned on the light when he visited the loo in the middle of the night – “I know where everything is, Yan, I’ve been peeing for years!” – Ianto lifted the lid and the seat on the toilet. Sure enough, Jack had ‘sprinkled’ in several places, something he hadn’t noticed earlier. With an emphatic “Eeew!” of disgust, he sprayed toilet bowl cleaner liberally both inside and out, giving it a minute to soak in. While he stood there, he realised that given the state of the toilet, he’d better mop the floor if he wanted any peace of mind.

After wiping down the toilet, he returned his cleaning basket to the cupboard in the utility room and retrieved his mop. Attaching a fresh cleaning pad and checking the fluid level in the bottle only took a few minutes and Ianto was back in the ensuite and finishing his unexpected cleaning project. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Ianto leaned against the door jam and surveyed his bathroom; other than grabbing the used towels from the hamper and the bar, his bathroom sparkled.

Feeling a little more chipper than earlier, Ianto hauled the towels and sheets – at the last minute he’d decided that since he was at it, he might as well strip the bed too – and the mop down to the utility room. After loading the washer and starting the machine, Ianto realised that he’d already spent an hour of his rare morning off cleaning, and all without a single drop of caffeine in his system.

Determined to remedy that oversight immediately, Ianto turned and headed for the kitchen; his fingers were itching to work the knobs and levers of his precious coffee machine. It was his pride and joy, and he loved it almost as much as Jack – sometimes even more. It all depended on whether or not Jack was behaving. Jack had presented the expensive Italian-made machine to him on their first morning in their new home.

Jack was also expressly forbidden from ever touching said machine again after he managed to break a knob off within minutes of unveiling his thoughtful gift. Some days he wasn’t even allowed to be in the same room when Ianto was using it. Jack used to joke that the coffee machine was Ianto’s true love; he just kept Jack around for the mind-blowing sex. 

However, he wasn’t allowed to say that anymore, not after he’d said it to Ianto’s mam and grandmother. The stern talking-to that Ianto had received from his grandmother was nothing compared to the lecture that Jack received from Ianto later that day. Jack had also been banished to the sofa for several nights after that.

Be all that as it may, the only thing now on Ianto’s mind was preparing the perfect cup of steaming hot coffee. He could almost smell it already.

Stepping across the kitchen threshold, Ianto stopped dead in his tracks. “What the fuck happened to my kitchen!” Ianto bellowed, anger boiling up inside him. “Jack!” he yelled as if the man could hear him. Snatching his phone from its charger, he stepped back into the hallway and leaned against the wall where he couldn’t see the disaster as he hit the speed-dial button for Jack’s mobile. It ran several times before Jack picked up.

“Yan!” The delight in Jack’s voice was obvious. “How’s my gorgeous man of leisure this morning?”

“I’m just wonderful, Jack.” Sarcasm dripped from Ianto’s voice like rain during a Welsh thunderstorm.

Had Jack not been pre-occupied with tracking a Weevil, he would have heard the sarcasm in his lover’s voice, realised the danger involved, and been worried, very worried. Instead he enthused, “Oh that’s great, Ianto! You need to do it more often – you work too hard. Gives you a chance to just sit back and do absolutely nothing for a change.” 

“Jack, would you come home for a moment?” Ianto’s voice was sweeter than honey. “I really need you right now.”

“Go left!” Jack yelled into Ianto’s ear. “Owen! Left!”

Immediately, Ianto’s Torchwood instincts took over and he shouted, “Jack, do you need help?”

“Uh, Ianto as much as I’d love coming home to you…”

“Jack! Do you need me to come out and help you?” Ianto spoke loudly and clearly into the telephone. 

“What? No!” Jack finally understood what Ianto was asking. “We’re good. Just chasing a Weevil back into the sewers.”

Ianto really didn’t want to go out; he knew that if he left the house any earlier than he’d originally planned, he wouldn’t return until who knew when and he’d lose his only opportunity to relax but if his lover and his team mates needed his help… “Okay then, if you’re really sure…”

“I’m sure. You go out and lay in the sun. I want to see some colour on your skin tonight when I rip off your clothes! Mmmm… tan lines…” Jack’s voice was positively dripping with lust and it was making Ianto weak at the knees, to say nothing about what it was doing to his libido.

“Ummm… okay…” Ianto was a little breathless; the state of the kitchen momentarily forgotten, his imagination was working overtime picturing the coming evening he would be sharing with Jack.

“Listen, Yan, I gotta go,” Jack interrupted his young man’s thought.

“Sure, Jack. Just please be careful?” It was more an order than a request.

“Always! Love you! Bye!”

Just as Ianto was about to pull his mobile away from his ear, he heard Jack’s final words. 

“Hey, Ianto?” Jack called out, hoping the connection was still live. He was delighted when he heard Ianto’s voice.

“Yeah?”

Jack grinned lasciviously, and Ianto could hear it in his voice. “I changed my mind… no tan lines!” Before Ianto could respond, Jack severed the connection.

Wearing a silly grin, Ianto shut his mobile and set it back in the charger. ‘Coffee,’ he decided. ‘Need coffee, now.’ He walked into the kitchen and stopped short, all thoughts of coffee and a sex-filled night flying from his brain.

“Yn fab i ast!” The Welsh swear words exploded from his lips as he surveyed the disaster before him. Jack had obviously made breakfast for himself before he’d left for work. As his eyes moved clockwise around the room, his archivist’s mind concisely catalogued the items that were strewn across the counters and yes, even on the floor.

First of all, the bag around the bread loaf was haphazardly closed, the butter was standing out and the open jar of jam lay on its side, and there was a half-eaten slice of sticky toast glued to the right-hand counter. 

A bowl half-full of milk with sad bits of soggy Cheerios floating about sat in front of Jack’s place; the milk was still on the table and the box of cereal had fallen over, leaving a spray of Cheerios spilled out. 

Finally, to the left of the sink there was Jack’s coffee cup sitting on the counter with – ‘oh yeah,’ Ianto peeked into it – ‘its usual small puddle of black tar coffee dried in the bottom.’

Wait… “COFFEE!!??!!”

With panic clutching at his gut Ianto’s eyes flew to his beloved coffee machine in a flash. At first glance it appeared okay, the knobs and levers in place, although there was a smattering of coffee grounds pushed to one side. Ianto ran his hands over the machine like a doctor checking for broken bones and he was ridiculously relieved to find that there was no damage done and that Jack hadn’t used the steamer, he’d merely made a cup of coffee, Ianto wasted no time in cleaning the machine and brewing his own coffee. There was no way he could face cleaning the kitchen without it and while he waited he resolutely stood with his back to the mess. 

Within minutes he had a very large cup of steaming liquid gold which he drank without once turning around. It took most of his second cup before he found the stamina, the guts, to turn and face the music. “Damn you, Jack, you are such a pig sometimes,” but there was no malice in his voice, just fond resignation. 

Draining his mug, Ianto set another pot brewing and started tidying up. Putting the dishpan in the sink, he added in a good squirt of lemon-scented faery liquid and turned on the hot water. While the pan filled, he gathered up the dirty dishes and utensils, dumped the cereal milk down the drain while catching the soggy Cheerio’s in his fingers, dumping those and the hardened piece of toast into the trash. Sliding the dishes beneath the bubbles, he capped the jam and the butter and put those in the fridge, then reclosed the bread bag and put it in the cupboard. 

Returning to the table he scooped the spilled cereal back into the box, closed it and picked up the milk, opened it and sniffed it, nodding when it smell all right. He slotted the box into its place but as he turned toward the fridge he stepped in something decidedly unpleasant feeling.

“Ugh!” Looking down he saw bright red strawberry jam squished up between his bare toes. “Damn it, Jack!” he bellowed, again forgetting that the man in question was long gone for the day. “Get in here!”

Hopping on one foot he made it to the fridge, where he put the milk away and then he hopped to the sink. Grabbing a paper towel he dipped it in the sudsy dishwater and did his best to clean his foot but grunted in displeasure.

Walking with one foot normally and using just the heel of the other, Ianto shuffled awkwardly down the hall to the bathroom where he propped the offended foot in the sink and ran warm water to clean his toes thoroughly. Satisfied that there wasn’t a speck of jam left, he reached for the towel from the bar to his left. 

There wasn’t one.

“Oh for pity’s sake!” he groaned in frustration. He hadn’t replaced the towels after gathering the used ones for laundry. Ignoring the wet footprints he was leaving on the floor, Ianto stomped out into the hall, flung open the linen closet door and snatched out a set of clean towels, which he then hung rather forcefully in their proper places in the bath.

Feeling his mood getting even worse, Ianto hurried back to the kitchen and the pot of fresh coffee waiting for him. Filling his large white mug with the red Welsh dragon on it, he held it under his nose and breathed in deeply, feeling his tension easing and his shoulders slowing lowering themselves from up around his ears. Only then was he able to wipe up the rest of the jam, wash and dry the dishes and put them away, then sweep and mop the floor, and finally he finished his laundry and remade the bed.

At last, with two hours of his precious morning off shot to hell, Ianto made it outside into his garden with his freshly brewed coffee and his brand new book. He set the mug on the low table and laid himself out on the lounger intent on getting at least three chapters read before he moved another inch. He’d compromised between protecting his fair Welsh skin from the sun and granting Jack’s wish for no tan lines by wearing the skimpiest pair of bikini briefs he had; they were a Valentine’s Day gift from Jack, naturally, and had little snaps at each hip so he could remove them from Ianto’s body with just his teeth.

The warmth of the sun combined with the sound of softly rustling leaves from a barely moving breeze proved to be too much for Ianto and before he was even halfway through the first chapter he was out like light, book fallen to the ground and his coffee left untouched.

An annoying mosquito began buzzing around Ianto’s ear, disrupting his superb rendition of ‘Ave Maria’, which he was singing at Royal Albert Hall before Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth and the Royal Family who were seated in the royal box amongst a variety of alien music lovers from around the galaxy. He tried his best to ignore it but finally the buzzing was too much; he reached up and swatted the pesky insect, his hand connecting sharply with his ear.

“Huh…” Ianto snorted himself awake, looking around blearily. “Wha…?” He noticed that his mobile was dancing around the small table, vibrating like an angry bee. He snatched it up, looked at the display and groaned loudly. It read Jack and showed three missed calls. Rolling his eyes, Ianto pressed 1 on the speed dial waiting impatiently for Jack to answer.

“You rang, Sir?” He tried – a bit unsuccessfully – to keep the snark from his voice. 

“Oh, hey, Yan!” Jack sounded so pleased to hear from him that Ianto felt his annoyance fading away. “I hope I didn’t disturb you and I really hope you’ve enjoyed your morning off, but…”

“But what, Jack?” The feeling of being annoyed was quickly returning. 

Realising that what he had to say was not going to be well received, Jack nervously cleared his throat. “It’s just that… ummm… it’s an hour past the time you said you’d be getting back to work and we really need you…”

“Why?” 

“Well, it’s just… ummm…” Jack repeated, again clearing his throat. “It’s nothing bad, I swear!” His nerves got the best of him and he took the easy way out. “You know what? Why don’t I just show you when you get here, okay?”

***** 

Filled with dread, Ianto unlocked the door to the Tourist Information Office and pushed the button for the hidden door, striding briskly down the passage to the lift and moments later he walked through the cog door to the accompaniment of its shrieking alarms.

“Yan!” Jack called down from the landing outside his office. “Welcome back!”

“Coffee!” Owen bellowed down from the greenhouse. “Biscuits!”

“Hello, Ianto,” Tosh smiled at her friend. “How was your morning?”

“Ianto,” Gwen looked up and waved a yellow Post-It at him. “I need this file quick as you can.”

Feeling every ounce of calm he’d achieved during his time off rapidly dissipate, Ianto took a few steps toward the kitchen before he noticed the mess on the floor. “Jack,” he said slowly, “what is this?”

Jack looked down and cringed. “Well, cos you didn’t come in this morning, we had to get coffee from across the Plass, and erm…” He shuffled his feet and spoke quickly. “Gwen knocked her super-sized triple-whipped caramel choccie-woccie-doo-dah latte thingie with extra sprinkles off her desk and it spattered all over the floor and dripped down through the grating.”

“And none of you thought to clean it up?” 

“We were going to, but then we got called out on a Weevil behind the chip shop,” Jack nodded brightly, as if that excused the mess. 

“That’s what you were doing when I called earlier.”

“Yup!” Jack beamed and then frowned. “Unfortunately…”

“Yes?” 

“Well, we couldn’t get it go back home so we had to bring it back here but… ummm… the Weevil must have eaten something that didn’t agree with it cos it threw up all over the back of the SUV…” Jack looked at Ianto quite earnestly and with true amazement. “Never seen one do that before, Yan. I mean, they live in the sewers, how sensitive a stomach can they possibly have?”

Ianto blinked slowly, processing the image of his well-maintained SUV now reeking of Weevil vomit. “And not one of you thought to clean it up?”

Tosh raised her hand. “That’s my fault, Ianto. Jack really was heading out to the car park with a bucket but I thought I saw something moving in the water tower’s pool and he stayed to investigate.”

“Seriously?” Intrigued, Ianto walked over and peered into the pool but couldn’t see anything. “What was it?”

“It turned out to be nothing, even though Jack and Owen did a really good job of looking for me,” she admitted sheepishly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly, Tosh,” Ianto smiled at her even though he was a bit disappointed; a creature swimming around in there would have been pretty cool. Briefly he wondered if a few decorative goldfish or carp might be a good idea but then he shook himself and got back to the matter at hand. “This is Torchwood after all, weird crap happens all the time. How about I make us all a coffee and then I’ll deal with the mess, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Ianto turned away from Tosh’s desk and started walking across to his kitchen when he noticed that there was a sticky trail leading from Gwen’s desk across the floor towards the autopsy bay. “May I ask what exactly happened here?”

Jack winced as he admitted that those were his sticky size-eleven boot prints. “Owen had an accident down in autopsy and in my hurry to get there I accidentally trod through Gwen’s mess…”

“Is Owen okay?” Ianto looked up at the greenhouse. “Owen, are you all right?”

“Fine!” the medic called back as he poked his head out the door. “I was working on that VelVax that washed up over on Barry Island the other day, remember it?”

Swallowing down a growing feeling of impending doom, Ianto nodded.

“Well, I accidentally punctured what I’m now thinking was its second spleen, or maybe the gall bladder, I’m not sure,” Owen shrugged. “I’ll figure it out, but it sort of exploded.”

“It sort of exploded?” Ianto spoke slowly and patiently. “Did you clean it up, Owen?”

“I was gonna, but then I figured you’d be in soon and you’d take care of it.”

“Yn fab i ast!” Ianto had never sworn so vehemently in his life.

End

***** 

Yn fab i ast! – Son of a bitch!


End file.
